


A Night At The Music Hall

by varelse



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Public teasing, Tom's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varelse/pseuds/varelse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Her first name is pronounced Lee-EK-ka.</p></blockquote>





	A Night At The Music Hall

In a long list of spectacular entrances, this one was over the top even for her. When I had asked her about her plans the day before, she'd been coy, but one of our friends had let the cat out of the bag and mentioned to me that she was going to leave corpses in her wake at that event. I could only imagine what she was up to, having been at the receiving end of oh so many dramatic reveals and witness to crowds of media and fans hounding her - the same ones that usually went berserk over me.

I got to the event right on time, as I always do. Gary was already there, passing himself off as my advance guy and bodyguard. Sunset was about a half hour away, and the weather was perfect. We stood around sipping non-alcoholic beverages out of champagne flutes and waited for the inevitable. He swore to me he had no idea what she had planned, but she routinely confided in him when she had a surprise for me she just couldn't keep to herself. If that was his poker face, it was up to par indeed.

The photographers started to filter into the plaza in front of the music hall, strobes ready. I'm used to it, and I don't mind it as much as I used to, but I was a bit more nervous than usual because of the expectation of something outrageous. She and I had been seeing each other for about eight months, and we'd managed to keep it pretty much out of the public eye so far, in spite of previous collisions she and I had had at other events. She loved to show up fashionably late, cause a ruckus, and join me when the dust settled. That invariably led to speculation on the part of the media, and that in turn appealed to her exhibitionist streak.

I did a little bit of press, smiled a lot, answered a few questions, waved at the fans who were piled at the perimeter hoping for a glimpse or a glimmer, and studiously sipped my drink.

We were just about to go into the music hall when the commotion started at the far end of the crowd. 

As she poured herself out of the limo, nobody could keep their eyes off her. No one ever can, she's magnetic. The first thing anyone saw were eight-inch platform heels, followed by endless legs encased in sparkly black polymer, followed by a nearly illegally short black leather skirt. When she stood up in all her glory, she was as tall in those vertiginous ankle boots as I am.

I could try to describe her hair and makeup, but I would fail miserably. All I can say is that she was a vision in silver and black. I think I stopped breathing. I stared as hard as everyone else on the plaza, but I knew she was there for me and no one else. She was, once more, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, a living work of art, a force of nature, a killing blow.

Somewhere at the back of my mind I realized she was wearing one of my leather jackets, with nothing underneath but a dancer's tight abs and a black leather bandeau barely covering her breasts. She looked around, scanning the crowd with her usual air of practiced contempt - and how could she not, being so manifestly superior to everyone else who was there! The strobes were seizure-inducing, the screams were deafening, and in that hurricane of sound, light and fury all I was aware of was her presence and my own heartbeat.

She started walking away from the perimeter, looking around at the crowd all the while, and got closer and closer to me. I actually began to panic - what if she didn't stop to talk to me? What if she did?

When she was about three feet away from me, she looked me straight in the eye, hissed like a punk kitten, smiled, and with a flourish of metal-tinted nails put her right hand on her left shoulder and said "Nicccccce jacket."

I came. I managed to hang on to my breath and my balance in front of all those hundreds of people, but the dry orgasm racked my entire body. My knees were melting, and I couldn't say a word to her, but I know she knew.

She slowly walked away, and after what seemed like hours I followed her into the music hall. We never touched, at least not then, not yet. I caught Gary smirking from the corner of my eye, and promised myself to have stern words with him later, a promise promptly forgotten.

When I sat next to her, still trying to stop trembling, I caught her scent, and I knew she had got a real charge out of her little performance art number.

We enjoyed the show very much. The band was great, and Gary in particular seemed pretty energized by the whole incident. I'm sure nobody waited until the end of the concert to start posting stills and videos all over the internet. 

She and I left in the same limo, contrary to our usual custom. I figured at this point I really didn't care who knew, even if it meant breaking the hearts of fans everywhere, and this was something impossible to ignore. She and I had been discussing for some time how we might sort of hint to the press that we were an item, and this was as good a way to confirm the rumours as any.

When we got home, we made love for hours. It's always been making love, never just fucking or sex. We fell in love the night we met. There's nothing else to say about that.

The internet footage mercifully turned out to be less extreme than I had feared, when I got around to checking it out a couple of days later. Gary had already been all over it, and I got the short version of that part of the story from him.

And that's how the entire world learned that I was dating Lyekka Collins.

**Author's Note:**

> Her first name is pronounced Lee-EK-ka.


End file.
